A Study in Gold and Scarlet
by flying-chipmunk
Summary: It's John Watson's first confusing year at Hogwarts and he'd like to avoid "deducing" anything - except maybe why he has so much Potions homework. But he gets more than he bargained for when the school is swept up in a mystery and he's dragged along for the ride by one of the institution's more eccentric students. Who exactly is Sherlock Holmes, and why does he want John's help?
1. Chapter 1 - The Sight of a Friendly Face

Chapter 1 - The Sight of a Friendly Face

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Sherlock. But I love them! :D

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King's Cross station was as busy as ever - travelers rushed from platform to platform, luggage in tow, hoping to make their train on time; massive machines pulled along rails to their destinations, the echoes and groans of their operation dominating the already fairly noisy space; and people, people were everywhere, all engaged in conversations, laughing, talking, even crying.

In the midst of this activity, it would have been very easy to miss a young boy limping across the crowded platform, luggage cart in tow. In fact, nearly everyone did - and John Watson wasn't surprised in the least. After all, he didn't cut a particularly important or striking figure. He wasn't entirely sure _he_ knew what he was doing himself.

Come to mention it, that probably wasn't a good thing. His father had just dropped him off without a word of advice, or even a well-wishing. It was up to him to catch his train now, and he was afraid his chances of doing so were slimming by the minute. Probably time to make sure he had all the details in order.

Finding a relatively calm eddy amongst the swirling stream of people, he set his cane aside, leaning against the handle of his cart, and pulled the mysterious ticket from his jacket pocket. He fingered it carefully, almost as if expecting it to suddenly vanish or for the number written across the front to change. It wouldn't be wholly unexpected, in truth.

_Platform Nine and Three-Quarters._

Well, it hadn't changed on him, at the least. Of course, that didn't mean it made any more sense to him now than it had this morning. Perhaps even less so. At least now he didn't have his sister laughing at him.

_"Nine and Three-Quarters? Oh, this school's a right place for you, John - a looney bin! If you can get there. Are you sure it's a train? To get to this... Pig-Something place? I was under the impression you might travel by unicorn"_

_"Actually, I think the unicorns live in the forest. I don't think they'd be very at home in a London train station..."_

At that point, she'd burst out laughing and he'd thought it best to give it up. John's ears burned slightly at the memory. But now was not the time to recall Harry's ridicule - it was nearly eleven o'clock , and he still had to figure out exactly how he was going to get on this elusive train to Hogwarts.

He looked up again, hoping that he might somehow suddenly understand the meaning of the fractional platform number. Was he supposed to wait between the two? Was there some secret passage or something, some way that he hadn't been told about? Would he ever get in?

John had already tried asking one of the platform attendants, but his results had been discouraging - not only did the woman tell him to_ "Run along and find his family"_, but he wasn't even entirely sure she'd heard his question. Apparently a shabby-looking young boy with his school things wasn't enough to merit a response.

But time was growing short, so he resolved to try again - this time he'd search out a fellow traveler. Perhaps with luck they'd be headed for the mysterious platform as well. Surely there had to be some other students here. And their parents! _Someone_ would know.

Unfortunately, three people later, he was well and truly discouraged. No matter how tactful his questions may have been (_"Excuse me, are there any other platforms around here? Perhaps some oddly numbered ones?"_) he always got the same response. So far he'd been told to_ "stop joking about"_, _"bother someone else"_, and _"take things seriously, young man - this is train station, not a primary school"_. He supposed his appearance wasn't helping him - it was doubtful most of these people actually thought he was his full eleven years of age. But that couldn't exactly be helped, so he thought it rather unfair all the same.

To be honest, John was beginning to wonder if this mysterious school for wizards even existed to begin with. He sure hadn't heard of it before. But then again, he family was most certainly non-magical. And he'd gone and bought supplies in Diagon Alley, hadn't he? After his father dropped him off at the Leaky Cauldron? Sure, he'd needed some help, but that had been real enough!

He was mustering up the courage to try one last time when his trolley slid out from under his right arm. He tried to catch himself, but his bad leg stubbornly refused and he ended up - quite embarrassingly - on the floor.

"Are you alright?" a concerned voice asked from behind. John looked up, face burning, to see a tall man with messy black hair and glasses looking down in concern. He was obviously the speaker, but next to him was a boy only slightly older than himself. For some reason, said boy had dark purple hair, which clashed horribly with his greenish-brown jacket. But they both looked friendly enough.

"Just fine," John said sheepishly. He glanced about for his cane, which had flown a good foot or two away. The stranger, noticing this, bent down to grab it and hand it to him.

"Sorry about that," said John, pulling himself from the floor.

"Oh, no problem. If you're sure you're not hurt, of course," the man said. He looked at John more closely for a moment, taking in (John could only assume) the boy's rather secondhand appearance and injury. He was sure he looked far from impressive. John bit his lip slightly, wondering if asking this man for directions would be appropriate - or even worth his time.

"Are you all alone?" the man asked eventually, having finished his cursory examination. The question seemed primarily out of concern, which John found to be another encouraging sign. This stranger seemed trustworthy, to say the least.

"Well... my dad and sister dropped me off a bit ago so I could catch the train to school. But I'm afraid I seem to have gotten myself lost or something."

"Train to school?" the man asked smiling. "Teddy here's doing the same!"

The purple-haired boy gave John a wide but friendly smile. "Might I ask what school?"

"Er..." John wondered if they would laugh at him like all the others. Then again, if he never tried, he might be stuck here on the platform for... well, for as long as it took for his dad to realize he'd never made it to school. That would be incredibly embarrassing. (As if this whole fiasco wasn't already.) And they were certainly nicer than everyone else he'd asked.

"Well, it's a private school, I think. I'm not sure exactly where it is..." he began carefully. "And the platform is rather... oddly numbered. I was wondering if there might be a mistake...?"

The stranger just smiled, exchanging a knowing glance with the boy at his side - it had just occurred to John that he didn't know the man's name. That, and Teddy seemed a bit too old to be his son. Who was he, then? Could he trust these people?

"Nine and three-quarters?" Teddy asked, smirking a bit - though not in an unfriendly way.

John breathed an immense sigh of relief. "Yes! That's the one! Do you know how to get there?"

"Of course we do!" the man said cheerfully. "That's where we're headed as well. Teddy's going to be a second year at Hogwarts. And I'm assuming it's your first?"

John nodded. "Yes, but I'm really not sure about it all. I'd never even heard of... of wizards and magic and things until I got my letter."

"Oh, I was the same way," the stranger said, still smiling. "I'm afraid I didn't catch your name. I'm Harry, Harry Potter, and this is Teddy Lupin. He's a family friend."

"John Watson," he said in return, still relieved by the friendly exchange. "Thanks for your help, Mr. Potter."

He hoped the man didn't ask him to call him Harry - that would remind him too much of his sister, and just be rather awkward. They hadn't exactly been on good terms since the accident. Or even before it.

But _this_ Harry just smiled. "You're welcome. Now, let's get to the platform, shall we? Show him how it's done, Teddy."

John looked towards the older boy, who grinned and tightened his hold on his luggage cart. Seconds later, he was racing towards the barrier between the platforms.

"He's going to run into the wall!" John said, alarmed.

Mr. Potter laughed. "Looks like it, doesn't it? Just watch."

John complied, gasping as the boy vanished into thin air.

"But where did he go?" he asked, turning to the dark-haired man. He was sure his face looked ridiculous right now.

"The platform, of course!" he noticed John's incredulity and laughed. "I know, it makes no sense. But honestly, just run straight at the barrier. I promise no injuries will result. It's sort of like a secret passage."

John looked in alarm at the wall, back at Mr. Potter, and at his luggage cart. His eyes eventually settled on his cane and he frowned.

"You don't have to run, do you? For it to work?" he asked.

"Well, no, but it certainly keeps you from being nervous. I'd suggest... er, never mind," the man trailed off a bit, realization dawning rather quickly. "You'll be fine either way."

John nodded, setting his cane on the cart and tightening his grip on the handle. Cautiously, he advanced towards the barrier at a pace somewhere between a speedwalk and a slow limp. Looking back, he saw Mr. Potter's encouraging grin, and then - then everything changed. He'd hit the wall when he wasn't looking, and as he brought his head back around, he realized he was somewhere else entirely. A sign above his head read _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters_ and a massive red engine steamed along the tracks.

"John!" a voice called. He looked to his right and saw Teddy, now standing with another boy, waving at him. But something was different...

"Your hair!" he said, trying to limp over before giving up and grabbing his cane from the top of the cart.

Teddy, whose head was now a shade of midnight blue, didn't respond to this. Instead, he gestured towards his new companion.

"John, this Greg. He's another second year. Greg, this is John Watson - he's new. Helped him out a bit on the platform."

Greg extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, then!"

In any other circumstance, John would have accepted the handshake readily, but at the moment he was still transfixed by the bizarrity of finding a train platform behind a wall, complete with a massive steam engine. That, and the enigma that was Teddy Lupin's hair.

"There's a train!" he eventually said. "How is there a train? How is there a platform?"

Greg just lowered his hand a bit and grinned. "Muggle-born, then?"

John was shaken from his confusion by the unfamiliar word. _Muggle? Oh, right, non-magical_. He'd heard that one a lot whilst he did his before-school shopping. Looks like he'd definitely need to get used to it.

"Er... yes. Sorry. Nice to meet you, Greg...?"

"Lestrade. Greg Lestrade. And don't worry about it! My mum was a Muggle-born too. Can't imagine the confusion."

The boy extended his hand once again. This time, the handshake was successful. Just as John was about to ask about Teddy's hair again, Mr. Potter appeared next to them. He'd made his way through the platform, as well.

"Ready, boys?"

Greg, John, and Teddy all nodded - though John later wondered if he'd actually been included in that question. Either way, the man gave them all a grin.

"Well, good luck! Say hello to Neville for me. I'm expecting owls, Teddy - and not from the headmistress."

"That was an accident!" Greg protested. Next to him, Teddy just grinned.

"Yes, well, if you plan on sneaking out at night I can't discourage you - not with my track record, at least. Just don't get caught this time." Harry looked John in the eyes. "And you - well, you just enjoy yourself. You'll do great, I'm sure. In fact, I'm expecting to hear good things about John Watson - and his friends."

John blushed, wondering why exactly this man was so ready to assume he'd achieve anything. "Thanks again, Mr. Potter."

"No problem! Good luck at Hogwarts. It's a fantastic school."

At that moment, the whistle for the train rang out rather suddenly. Next to him, Greg and Teddy both jumped at the sudden sound, then laughed, grabbing their trolleys and racing towards the massive vehicle. It took John a few moments to gather himself and get moving properly, but in the end he found himself heading towards the train as well, albeit at a slower pace than the older boys. The last he saw before he was swept in the crowd was Mr. Potter, waving to the three of them.

His heart began to beat a little faster, though he wasn't sure if it was from apprehension or excitement. Probably a bit of both.

_And so the adventure begins..._

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A/N - Hello, readers! I'm happy to announce my next big multi-chapter fic, A Study in Gold and Scarlet! And before I get too deep into things, I'd be interested in getting a beta for this one. Preferably with decent knowledge of both _Sherlock_ (including ACD works) and Harry Potter. Any interest?

In my author's notes, I'll be telling you a lot about my thought process - everything from character interactions and head-canons to my heavily researched ideas on the wands or houses of each character. Because that's how I roll. For now I don't have too much to say, except for this - I personally like to imagine Harry helping out future students on the platform, even in a purely HP continuity. The way the Weasley's did for him. It just seems like something he would do (and is somewhat adorable, in my opinion).

Ah, and for anyone interested, this story is supposed to begin in 2010, which is indeed Teddy's second year according to J.K. Rowling's timeline. (It's also the year that _Sherlock _first aired. No coincidence. :D) It'll also reach into 2011, since it's supposed to cover an entire year at the school.

The chapter title comes from _A Study in Scarlet, _specifically a quote of Watson's. ("The sight of a friendly face in the great wilderness of London is a pleasant thing indeed to a lonely man.")

I'm planning on working on this story for Camp NaNoWriMo this April (look it up, if you don't know what that means - it's fantastic for word counts), so if I don't update, please do bother me about it. Means I'm getting lazy.

Reviews and such are always appreciated. Hope to update soon!


	2. Chapter 2 - A Step Upon the Stair

Chapter 2 - A Step Upon the Stair

Disclaimer: I own neither Sherlock or Harry Potter. Or a witty comment to put here.

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John once again found himself in the midst of a rather large crowd of people, though fortunately he now had some semblance of an idea as to where he was going. Unfortunately, it was this development of single-minded determination that lead to his next minor brush with disaster.

Attempting not to get distracted by the new world he found himself in, he failed to notice a girl, about his own age, struggling with an unhappy ginger-and-tan tomcat. She, focused on containing the ornery feline, likewise did not see the limping boy in front of her until the creature unceremoniously leapt from her arms and landed on John's luggage trolley.

John blinked in confusion. Why was there a cat on his trunk? He reached out a hand to grab hold of the creature, not wanting it to dash away further. The cat, however, did not appreciate this gesture and shifted into a far more militant position, hissing all the while. Before John could react, the creature had launched itself at him - or more specifically, his face.

At the exact moment the cat's claws made contact with his nose, he heard a panicked voice cry out. "Tobernius! No!"

The cat responded quickly, dropping like a stone to the ground and casually licking its paw, as if to imply that any wrongdoing had not been incurred on its own part. John gingerly put a hand to his nose and pulled it away, glad to see only a speck of red on his fingertip. Just a scratch then.

The apologetic owner, however, seemed convinced that he'd been grievously injured.

"Are you alright? I'm so sorry, I just don't know what got into him! Toby - bad cat! Are you sure you're okay? He's not usually like this; just yesterday my mum said he was -"

John held up his hand, silencing the frantic girl.

"I'm fine, I promise. Just a-"

"-Oh, you're bleeding! I'm so sorry!" she looked about, frazzled. Noting "Toby" on the ground, she scooped up the offender with one arm, pulling out a handkerchief with the other and offering it to John. This raised several questions on his part. Firstly, was the girl merely nervous for her first day of school (she looked young enough that he assumed he'd found a fellow first year), or was she always this jumpy? And secondly, who carried a handkerchief around?

Before he could ask either, the train whistle blew once more. The girl, who John decided he would, for the time being, be forced to refer to as "Toby's owner" looked nervously at the vehicle.

"We'd better get on," she said quietly, noting that John was indeed making use of it and holding it to his nose (which may not have been truly injured, but stung something awful). "You can... er... keep the handkerchief."

John looked at her once more, realizing she looked just as scared as himself (actually, vastly more so, something he hadn't thought possible). She looked far from formidable with her pigtail and half-buttoned cardigan. Several of the buttons were in the wrong holes, which left an extra inch hanging on the right.

He made a quick decision. "Well, we could always find seats next to each other in one of the carriages."

Her face lit up. "Really?"

"Sure. I just need to get my trunk on the train," he said, pointing to the now somewhat abandoned cart.

"Oh, I'll help!" she said cheerfully, making a motion as if to extend her hand. Unfortunately, as her arms were still full of cat, it lacked effect and mostly looked ridiculous. "My name's Molly, by the way. And your attacker is Tobernius. But I call him Toby."

"John," he said, bending a bit to pick up the trunk. He frowned, realizing he'd needed his father's help to get it on the cart on the first place. "I don't suppose you'd be able to pick up the other end?"

Molly looked apologetically at Toby, who she clearly didn't want loose again. But before John had to get creative, he heard a familiar voice calling from the train.

"John! Need some help?" Teddy asked standing in the open doorway. John was alarmed to note that his hair was now dark green. At least it matched his jacket, now...

"Yes," he said, relieved. Teddy hopped down from the entrance to the carriage and walked over, picking up the end further away from John.

"Got it?" the older boy asked.

John nodded, hoping they could get it on quickly. He wasn't sure how much longer that would be true, what with his operating one-handed. Molly followed them at a bit of a distance, a deceivingly small pack slung over her shoulder. Was that really all she'd brought with her?

"Careful here," Teddy said. "There's a bit of a step to get inside."

While "bit of a step" was a perfectly viable description on Teddy's part, John looked at it with concern for a good several seconds. Juggling his cane and trunk was hard enough - stairs had not been needed to further complicate things. But somehow, very carefully, they eased themselves over it and into the hall. Setting both their ends of the trunk down for a moment to rest (now that they were once again on a flat surface), Teddy looked at John.

"You have a place to sit?" he asked. "Greg and I were saving some seats for our mates Shaun and Henry, but they must've gotten on elsewhere."

John looked back at Molly, who it seemed had shrunk slightly at the idea that John might be headed somewhere else. Fortunately, Teddy noticed this before it escalated.

"We've got two seats, you know. Room for you as well."

Molly's face brightened instantly, seemingly amazed by the fact that she'd received not one but _two_ invitations to sit with other students in the matter of a few minutes. John was beginning to wonder if she had many friends. Seemed like she should - she was awfully nice.

The two younger students followed the elder to a nearby compartment, where Greg was lazily sprawled out across one of the benches. He grinned as they entered, sitting up.

"Need some help with that trunk?"

Teddy motioned for John to sit down, and the two older boys heaved it to a more convenient corner. Molly followed quietly, setting her own bag carefully on top. She glanced cautiously at Greg, apparently uneasy about meeting so many new people at once.

A sudden jerk signaled that the train had begun moving, and seats shuffled around once more as all four of them leapt to the window to see the station seemingly pull away. John noticed Molly waving to a short, middle-aged brunette woman and a lanky pepper-and-tan-haired man he could only assume were her parents by the way she grinned at them. They made for an interesting sight, in clothing that seemed half Muggle and half wizard - her mother, to say the least, was wearing both a bright blue sweater and a pointed witch's hat. He resolved to ask her about her parents later - one of many questions he hoped to have answered on the train ride.

Greg was waving to a man who merely looked like an older version of himself. It was easy to see the family resemblance, especially considering Greg's own hair seemed prematurely grey for a twelve year-old. John glanced at Teddy's once-again midnight-blue head and wondered if all wizards had strange hair colors. Well, Molly's seemed normal, at the least.

Speaking of Teddy, the boy was waving at Mr. Potter, who stood smiling on the platform as they pulled out of sight. John realized, with a bit of a sinking feeling, that he was the only one without family - or friends, as it may be - present. Well... maybe next year he'd be able to get Dad and Harry to come. Once things had cooled down a bit.

John sat down before anyone else, likely because he had little reason to keep his eyes glued to the standing figures as they grew smaller and smaller with distance. Shortly after, Molly landed in the seat next to him with a rather springy bounce, arms still attempting to contain her cat. Greg and Teddy took their seats on the other side of the compartment, across from the little table in the center.

"So, I don't believe we've all met," Greg said, looking at Molly. She gave a nervous smile back.

"Oh!Er - I'm Molly. Molly Hooper. It's my first year at Hogwarts."

"Greg," he said. He looked back at Molly, curiously. "Is your dad in the Ministry?"

She nodded. "Improper Use of Magic."

Greg leaned back in his chair, looking satisfied. "Same - that is, I think my dad works with yours. Nice to meet you."

Molly smiled back, hugging Toby slightly. John, on the other hand, was still trying to figure out what exactly he'd heard. Noticing his look of confusion, Teddy laughed.

"Looks like we've got some explaining to do along with introductions! How long exactly have you know about the wizarding world, John?"

"Only since July," he admitted. "Just after we moved back to England. Bit of a shock, really."

"Moved back?" Greg asked curiously. He leaned forward in his seat once again. "From where?"

"Germany - though that was only for a couple months. We were en route from Afghanistan."

Greg's eyes narrowed in thought, whereas Teddy looked mildly interested and Molly gave a soft "Ohhh..."

"What?" the silver-haired second year eventually asked.

"Er - my family's military..."

Greg looked at him blankly once again, joined this time by Teddy (who looked as if he was trying to remember something rather important he'd forgotten).

"Y'know... soldiers?" he offered.

"Muggle ones," Molly said, finally joining in the conversation.

The older boys both looked fascinated. It hadn't occurred to John that, not only was his life different than most non-magical families, it was particularly bizarre for those in the wizarding world. He had a lot to get used to.

But for the time being, it was beginning to look like he'd be answering questions instead, something he had no desire to do. Instead, hoping to both change the subject and begin the "getting used to" process, he offered a question of his own.

"So... I take it you're all full-blooded wizards then?"

"Nah, I'm a halfblood," Teddy said. "Greg too."

Molly gave a bright look. "Well, my mum's a halfblood, but so was her dad and he was _pretty_ close to pure. But he went and married my grandma, who was the non-magical twin sister of a Muggle-born - that's a long story - so it's pretty mixed up. By my dad's practically a Muggle-born - his mum was a squib and his dad was a Muggle. Bit of a shock when he turned out magical. Still don't know how it happened. But my dad's mum's parents are from an old wizarding family with some halfbloods and some purebloods, and my mum..." she trailed off, realizing she'd just prattled on for quite a while. She looked embarrassed.

Greg stared at her, clearly trying to sort it out in his head. Teddy just laughed.

"Well that's specific."

John was even more confused, partly by the flurry of words and partly by the abundance of new terms. _Pureblood? Squib? _Not to mention the fact that the seemingly quiet Molly had just divulged a good paragraph's worth of information, a surprise in itself.

"There are different kinds of wizards?" he asked blankly.

Teddy sobered a bit. "Well, all witches are wizards are the same in every way that counts. But some families have had magic in the blood longer than others. Couple of the really old ones call themselves purebloods. Bit pretentious, really. Halfbloods are what they sound like - a mix between wizard and Muggle or Muggle-born families, and then there's Muggle-borns like yourself."

This made enough sense that John would be content with the answer for now, though much was still left for him to wonder about. Were there many Muggle-borns at all? Was he going to be alone in learning about this? Was there anything else important he out to know?

"So it just has to do with how long your family's been... magical," he asked, hoping to at least solidify the little knowledge he had.

"There's been some... prejudice... historically," Greg mumbled, "but it's fairly even now."

The other three exchanged cautious looks, but John had too much on his mind to dig further. "So... what else should I know?" he asked "Obviously I'll be learning what school's like, but what about things like, say, what wizards do in their free time? D'you... I don't know, read or play football or things like that?" Personally, John was hoping that there was a bit more to being a wizard than going to school (although from what he had seen thus far, that itself was proving to be interesting enough).

Greg's face lit up in a massive grin. "Well, I like playing Quidditch."

"He's going to try out for the Gryffindor team this year," Teddy said proudly. "And he'll probably make it, too"

"Er - what's that?" John asked carefully.

The next several minutes were spent in a flurry of discussion, from attempts to explain the rather complicated game to John (something which was unfortunately rather unsuccessful, given the multitude of sporadic introductions by Teddy and even Molly, who happily mentioned something about a second or third cousin once removed or the like who played as a reserve for a team with the rather odd-sounding name of Puddlemere). The rapid-fire conversation was interrupted only by the appearance of the snack-cart witch, whose coming was welcomed by the now-suddenly hungry young students. Molly quite graciously offered to purchase John a chocolate frog, which he viewed apprehensively but accepted given her kind gesture. He was pleased to discover, though, that despite his initial aversion to moving food, it was quite delicious.

There were some half-hearted attempts to restart the discussion afterwards, but they merely resulted in Teddy and Greg discussing the standings of various teams, none of which John had ever heard of. Molly listened for a bit, but slowly pet Toby (who now slept deceivingly peacefully on her lap) instead of chiming in herself.

John merely stared out the window, watching the scenery flash by as they passed it. The countryside clacked by in a blur of green and brown and white, the latter with the occasional appearance of a sheep or house. Everything sped past at a steady speed, and he wondered, rather philosophically, if it was all he was leaving behind.

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A/N: Hello again, dear readers! I've already received a rather lovely response to this story, which is immensely encouraging. Love you all! Things are still yet to get moving right along, but once we hit Hogwarts everything will become far more rapid - and that's next chapter! (Which also means Sorting controversy, I'm sure...)

I don't have much else to share right now, minus, of course, the chapter title. "A Step Upon the Stair" is derived from a quote in The Hound of the Baskervilles: "Now is the dramatic moment of fate, Watson, when you hear a step upon the stair which is walking into your life, and you know not whether for good or ill." Rather appropriate, I think, as John takes his first steps towards Hogwarts.

I have a lot of information I could talk about, but I'm really not sure what you're interested in and I hate to blather on if no one cares. Got any questions for me to answer in future author's notes? Want to know why I portray someone a certain way, or who someone's supposed to be? What kind of a wand one of the characters has? Family history? Unless, it's a plot detail, I'd be happy to elaborate. And I put some thought into quite literally every detail, so if you want to know about it, I'm sure I've got something. :D

Well, until next chapter, lovelies! Reviews and such are always appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3 - For Good or Ill

Chapter 3 - For Good or Ill

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor SHerlock, but I do think someone should name a hippogriff Mycroft.

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As they stepped off the train, now clad in school robes (an undertaking that had resulted in a blushing Molly quickly taking refuge in a compartment of third year girls and apologizing profusely), John found himself once again getting swept up in the crowd. He looked first to Teddy and Greg, then to Molly, in the hopes that he wouldn't lose them in the hubbub.

"Where do we go now?" he asked, excitement only barely concealed. The thrill of a new adventure still had him in its grasp.

"Well, you two'll head over there," said Greg, pointing to towards a slowly growing cluster of younger students," and I suppose after that we'll see you at the Sorting."

"The what?"

Teddy laughed. "Never mind, never mind. Don't want you getting lost, you'd better join the rest of the first years. See you in a bit!"

The older boys waved cheerfully as they vanished into the much larger throng of older students. John gave a quick glance to Molly, who shrugged and began walking in the direction Greg had indicated.

One boat ride later, John stood agape at the door to the school with his fellow classmates. Molly was quietly wringing out her sleeve, and John was just beginning to appreciate how remarkable her talent for appearing accident prone truly was. But slightly more notable was the architecture before them. Whatever he'd been expecting, it definitely hadn't been a castle.

_Wait'll I tell Harry about this..._ he thought, grinning. Perhaps she wouldn't find Hogwarts so "silly" after all. _She'll never believe it!_

Next to him, Molly gave a slight jump as the massive wooden doors creaked open. An impossibly small man (whom their guide, the polar opposite, referred to as "Professor Flitwick") waited inside, and gave a wide grin as he looked over the new students.

"Ah, welcome, first years, to Hogwarts! Come in, come in!"

The children were lead inside and through the stone walls. John merely shook his head in disbelief and smiled to himself as they passed a suit of armour and a painting that grinned back at him. Slowly (well, too slowly for his own taste at the moment), they moved towards a dull buzzing and murmuring of many voices speaking at once. But before they reached the room this was emanating from, they were ushered off to the side where the man cleared his throat and once again addressed the first years.

"Welcome again, students. Now, in just a few moments you will enter the hall for the Sorting ceremony, after which you will join your houses for the start-of-term feast. While some of you may be nervous, I assure you your houses will provide for you as fine a family as you could ask for - and I urge you to honor them as such, as your behavior will either earn or lose your points and ultimately decide the winner of the year's house cup," he said, beaming.

There were a dozen questions John could have asked at that moment, but before he could even voice one of them to Molly (whom he assumed had a bit more of an idea as to what was going on), the small man clapped his hands together.

"Now, into the hall"

As the first-years shuffled in, John's eyes widened even further at their new surroundings. He'd been impressed enough with the grounds already, but the bright colors of the tables, the starry ceiling, and the glittering golden dishes were such a contrast from any place he'd ever seen before that his amazement (and bizarre mix of excitement and apprehension) only grew. A few paces ahead, Molly turned around to give him a nervous smile, which he returned quickly, his own mixed with sheer wonder. He was pretty sure he'd just seen a ghost float by.

A hushed whisper passed over the murmuring first-years as they noticed the old, patched and worn-looking hat sitting silently on a stool. John, of course, rather expected it to remain silent - and was therefore surprised when it began to sing.

_"Another batch of students passes_

_For the first time through our doors._

_The best and brightest lads and lasses,_

_As our history assures._

_From founders old to students young,_

_Time memories erases,_

_But I'll recall the songs I've sung_

_For hundreds of new faces_

_For Gryffindors, with fearless nerve_

_And sense of justice strong_

_Whose brave and noble ways will serve_

_To tell them right from wrong._

_And Slytherins with cunning minds,_

_And ambitions large and great._

_Determined students of the kind_

_Destined to shape their fate._

_Or Hufflepuffs with patience great_

_And friendship most astounding_

_Their trust so hard to terminate_

_And loyalty abounding_

_I've seen Ravenclaws, with loads of smarts_

_And minds with great discerning_

_Devoted to the wisest arts_

_And always ever-learning_

_But after years within these halls_

_I've noticed one thing sure_

_A history most cluttered calls_

_With things we've seen before_

_The knowledge gained from countless years_

_Most earnestly entreats_

_we think we may have faced our fears_

_But history repeats."_

All four tables burst into applause, along with the still-standing new students. In the back of his mind, though, John couldn't seem to shake that fact that it appeared they'd just been warned of imminent danger by a hat. A very smart, hat, he supposed, but a _hat_ all the same.

"Now, when I call your name, please come up here," the small man said, clutching a parchment scroll. "Ackerly, Athena!"

A young girl with dark brown hair eagerly dashed towards the stool, the hat falling slightly above her ears as she pulled it on. There was slight laughter as she pushed it back up, then gave up and let it fall down once again. A few moments later, the hat spoke.

"RAVENCLAW!"

The blue and bronze table, second from the left, cheered loudly, and Athena quickly pushed the hat off, running to join them.

"Belby, Curtis!"

A blonde-haired boy came next, sitting for only a few moments before the hat loudly proclaimed.

"RAVENCLAW!"

By "Boot, Francis," John gave Molly a quizzical look - the boy was the third Ravenclaw thus far, and they were yet to see another house called. But that was soon enough remedied by "Bletchley, Fiona" who joined the ranks of silver and green after a quick pronouncement of "SLYTHERIN!"

The first Gryffindor came only a few students later ("Cadwallader, Jack"), followed by the first Hufflepuff ("Capper, Lucy"). Having now sorted out which house name corresponded to which table, John found his overall interest in the proceedings diminish. His attention was caught once again, however, shortly after the call descended into "H" surnames.

"John!" Molly hissed in a concerned voice, just after "Higgs, Dahlia" had been sorted into Slytherin. "John, I think I'm next!"

But Molly's fears were, for the moment, unfounded. Instead, a different name rang out.

"Holmes, Sherlock!"

There was a sudden swivelling of heads to watch a lanky, dark-haired first year student advance to the front. He more than took his time, appearing well aware of the fact that he had piqued everyone's interest.

Behind him, John caught a low whisper.

"Didn't know there was another one of them..."

"Of what?" He asked, turning to look at the boy who had made this statement (who suddenly looked rather embarrassed and adjusted his glasses.)

"Er - another Holmes," he said. Noting John's confused look, he elaborated. "They're an old pureblood family, that's all. My cousin's in Mycroft's - that the older one, he's Head Boy - year." He looked at John and extended a hand. "My name's Mike, by the way.

"John," he nodded in response. And this is Molly."

"He looks nice," Molly said, with a hint of finality. She seemed to have skipped the introductions and still had her eyes affixed on the other first year as he sat at the front.

Mike shrugged. "All I know is their family has a reputation for being a bit mad. Eccentric at best, dark wizards at their worst. Watch, I wouldn't be surprised if he's a Slytherin."

And watch they did. It didn't seem the hat was keen on making a decision anytime soon. Hushed whispers began to make their way throughout the hall as the seconds, and ultimately minutes, ticked on.

"Hat-stall," Mike proclaimed, crossing his arms.

"That happens?" John whispered back.

"Oh, I'd expect nothing less from a Holmes," Mike said. "I think Mycroft set a school record. He's probably trying to beat it."

Indeed, the dark-haired boy - Sherlock? - was looking quite pleased with himself, a smug smile plastered on his face as he rolled his eyes at something. It was several more whisper-filled minutes before the hat finally reached a verdict.

"RAVENCLAW!"

The boy removed the hat gently, setting it back on the stool with a smirk - accompanied, John noted, by a slightly more reserved clapping than other students had received thus far. But as he made his way to the seats filled with blue and bronze, his eyes narrowed as he glared in the direction of a tall, professional-looking older student at towards the head.

"That's Mycroft," Mike whispered, pointing to the older boy.

John nodded, noting that the newly-sorted of the brothers took a seat as far towards the opposite end as possible. He didn't have much time to wonder about this, though, as the next name called was equally notable.

"Hooper, Molly!"

Molly gave a noise that sounded a bit like a squeak, then cautiously stepped out from the huddle of first years. Once on her head, the hat fell well over her eyes. She spent several moments sitting nervously, knees wobbling slightly, before the hat loudly informed the hall of her house.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Molly shyly pushed the hat off her head, slowly walking towards the long table clad in yellow and black. She shot a quick glance at John, giving a sheepish smile, then took a seat next to a friendly-looking older girl.

There was far less of note after she left - the call of students was made slightly more interesting by a somewhat entertaining streak of alternating Slytherins and Gryffindors ("Lufkin", "Lynch", "Moon", "Moran", "Moriarty") in which the two houses began an escalating contest to see, it seemed, who could cheer the loudest, but was eventually broken by interfering Hufflepuff "Morstan, Mary". There was also the string of triplets ("Perkins", "Perkins", and "Perkins") who went to Gryffindor shortly after, but overall the ceremony was beginning to blur together a bit.

Soon enough, Mike was sorted as well (into Ravenclaw), and it occurred to John that he could very well be the last student sorted. This was verified by the call of second-to-last student "Warrington, Nestor". The minute the hat's verdict was delivered ("SLYTHERIN!"), John looked about the hall a little nervously, waiting for his summons.

"Watson, John!"

John winced slightly at the loud _clack-clack_ his cane made, echoing off the walls of the quiet hall, as he walked towards the waiting hat. It was an odd feeling, all eyes so suddenly being on him. He wondered if everyone else had felt such a stifling gaze.

As he sat down, he gave a quick look at the hat, then crammed it down on his head quickly.

_"Eager, aren't we?"_

John straightened in surprise as the brim slipped further down his face.

"Hello?"

_"Oh, you're a tricky one. Courage certainly, but there's more to you than that, isn't there? You've seen things already, seen things someone your age, a child, shouldn't have to face. And yet... you're more than willing to see some more, aren't you?"_

John wasn't sure what the hat was talking about, but he felt as though he should perhaps chime in.

"Well, it depends on what you mean..."

_"Depends? Yes, it does depend, doesn't it? Depends on what's important. What you value. And what is it that you value most?"_

John thought about that for a moment. What did he value? He certainly admired his parents, who were brave in so many different ways. And then there were the hospital staff who had helped him and his family so much... not to mention the people he had met today alone. Mr. Potter and Teddy, helping him at the train station, Molly being so friendly and helping him feel more comfortable...

_"Yes, very interesting. You'll go far with that loyalty, boy. Which, I believe, most certainly marks you as a HUFFLEPUFF!"_

John's eyes flew open quickly as the hall filled with applause. As he lifted the hat from his head, he scanned his eyes across the black and yellow table. In the corner of his eye, he could see Molly, clapping harder than anyone. She patted an empty spot next to her. And as he limped towards the Hufflepuff table, he felt an overwhelming sense of relief. Hogwarts was already beginning to feel a bit more like a home.

Of course, the question remained as to whether or not that was a good thing. His sister had been under the impression that it would result in is being turned into a hedgehog.

* * *

**A/N:** Hello everyone! Before I delve into my "Behind the Scenes" segment, I need to get some thank-you's out there. I like to for all my stories, but I've fallen behind on this one. So without further ado: thanks to ArrowSphere, Burning Tortoise, Captain Reddish, Captian-Winter, Cookies of Doom, Lost Reasons, MinimusAstrum, RemusZaneRedvines, Sc0rPi052, TheSilverWingWolf, bookwormrdd, christinesangel100, doglover1230, ejsoul, giggle-like-crazy, izzyibit29, mainstreet52, and twaddletoe for their follows, as well as jfang465, doglover1230, christinesangel100, VashtaNeradaCaan, and Burning Tortoise for the favorites. And mainstreet52, Captain Reddish, and the two lovely anons all get chocolate frogs for reviewing. (I'll get to your questions in a bit.) :D

So, I've decided my explanations will work like this. I'll cover a topic every chapter in my author's notes - my "special features" for you. If there's anything you'd like me to cover, do pipe up! I'd love to hear your ideas. This week's subject: **Sorting John and Sherlock**

I know the Sorting is always a bit controversial in these sorts of stories, so let me give you my two cents before you ask any questions.

Sherlock was the easy one. I know some people put him in Slytherin, but I can't see him as anything but a Ravenclaw: he gets obsessions over academic ideas, is very intelligent, is a bit eccentric, and possesses the single-minded determination one often sees in Ravenclaw students. He's very academic, but not ambitious (ruling out, I think, the snakes) - remember, this is someone who habitually turns down knighthoods.

John was trickier. I think I've seen mostly Gryffindor for him, but I've decided he's actually a proud badger. His defining quality, I think, is loyalty. Beyond that though, I thought about motivation. No one can deny that Watson is incredibly courageous, but we've seen courageous characters from all the houses (Hufflepuff alone has Ernie Macmillan, Cedric Diggory, and Tonks, to name a few). The difference is why. And I'll have to agree with Rowling herself, who says that Hufflepuffs show a very different bravery than Gryffindors (if you're interested in this stuff, look up "J.K. Rowling on Hufflepuffs" on YouTube). She describes Gryffindors as being a bit "showboat-y", whereas the Hufflepuffs are a quieter sort of brave, one which I think we see in John. I saw a quote somewhere on tumblr (which I'm afraid I can't credit because I lost it, but it stood out to me) a while ago - "Gryffindors may be the first on the battlefield, but Hufflepuffs are the last to leave it." I think that describes John's attitude rather well. If we look his at other qualities, they also fit. He's certainly hardworking, tolerant, dedicated, and patient, being a doctor (and anyone who lives with Sherlock Holmes without going mad must epitomize patience...).

So there's my bit. To finish up, here are some answers for my reviewers.

Q&A:

_Is Sherlock going to be much older than John, or about the same age?_

He's in John's year, but Sherlock is a bit younger. The Ministry got fed up with dealing with his underage magic infractions and thought Hogwarts might do him some good. (Silly Ministry...) That and his parents are rather influential members of the wizarding community who were able to secure a spot for their genius son.

_Why is Molly's cat called Tobernius?_

Ah, on Molly's blog, she talks about buying a cat and naming it Toby. Since wizard pets typically have slightly more exotic name_s (Pigwidgeon, anyone?), I simply looked up a Latin name for which this might be a nickname._

_What positions do Greg and Teddy want/play in Quidditch?_

Teddy doesn't play Quidditch, but Greg is trying out for Keeper.

_What branch of the military is John's dad in?_

Both of John's parents are meant to serve as analogs to his own military experience in the books and TV show, so Army.

_Who are Shaun and Henry?_

Two other Gryffindor boys in Greg and Teddy's year. (There are three total, and I'll leave the other's identity up to speculation.) Shaun Cooper is purely an OC, as my goal is to blend the two universes consistently. This includes, as I'm sure you noted in the Sorting, a lot of background characters with lesser-known wizarding surnames. I have a list of students in the main characters' year, just like Rowling did (and interestingly enough, several Sherlock surnames were already in use in the wizarding world - Hooper, Moran, and Murray). Seems you've caught on to Henry, though. Everyone's getting a bit tired of his insisting a Grim is loose in the school... :)

Thank you so much, everyone! Any response is appreciated, and I assure you, I'll respond to any and all reviews or questions.


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